


I know it's not your fault (but I blame you anyway)

by istillfearkanna



Series: Agape, Eros, and Philautia (or, Crushes are Garbage) [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Feelings and stuff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 13:36:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11105643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/istillfearkanna/pseuds/istillfearkanna
Summary: Yuri has won every competition he's ever participated in, and he'll be damned if he's gonna let this stupid crush beat him.





	I know it's not your fault (but I blame you anyway)

Yuri would forever remember where he was the day he learned Yuuri Katsuki would be training in Russia. He was lying in his bed and chatting with Otabek when his absolutely-not-stalkerish google alert pinged with an article about it and he dropped his phone right on the bridge of his nose, nearly breaking both.

On some level he knew he probably should have seen it coming. That idiot Victor had been talking about being both a coach and a competitor, but Yuri never paid Victor any heed when he was making sense, so why bother listening to him when he was suggesting something so ridiculous? Obviously the ISU wouldn't allow this, and katsudon could probably go back to Celestino any time he wanted.

But no. Of course not. The Great Victor Nikiforov could get away with fucking anything: he could excuse away a banquet turning into a strip club, he could con his way into an exhibition for a competition he didn't even skate in AND open the door for same-sex ice dancing at the same fucking time, so of course he could convince the mindless hacks in charge of the ISU to allow him to pull double duty.

It was bad enough that the whole situation had Yakov in an especially foul mood. Now he would have to deal with having Yuuri - who, as the object of Yuri's affection, was the person he wanted to see most AND least in the world - around every. Single. Day. 

Being around Katsuki was hard enough when it was just a stupid little crush back in Hasetsu, but that was nine months ago, and in that time the stupid katsudon had seemingly grown more and more beautiful every day, building to a burning crescendo at the grand prix final when a few stolen drinks had him pouring his heart out to Otabek and making an ass of himself in front of the other finalists. It was bad enough having these feelings, but everyone knowing he did was...

There would be no more running away from his feelings, Yuri realized. The idea made his blood run cold, so cold it ached with every beat of his heart, flowing to his extremities and leaving him miserable and frostbitten in his own home. 

Otabek said that was for the best. But Otabek was always trying to help him be more "honest" and "open" and whatever and Yuri was...well, he wasn't sick of it. He was grateful for it. But this one issue was far too sensitive. For every fiber of his being that absolutely ached for Yuuri's touch, there was another that was deeply, bitterly terrified at the idea of Yuuri flat out rejecting him.

Still, Otabek was good at this. Perhaps too good. It took only a few days of nagging for him to agree to at least talk to Yuuri (which seemed like a waste of all the energy he'd already spent planning to avoid Yuuri forever by cleverly scheduling his practice around Yuuri's mealtimes, or perhaps moving to Almaty), if not to confess entirely. 

Stupid piggy should have stayed in Japan. At least he was half a continent away there, far enough that Yuri could ignore his stupid feelings and bury the memories of Barcelona under heaps of greed and ambition, as he was wont to do. Even so, Yuri's treacherous heart fluttered more than a little at the thought of seeing perfect, beautiful Yuuri Katsuki every day.

The true drama, however, started on the day before Yuuri's arrival - an otherwise normal practice until Yuri overheard Victor's bitching.

"Yakov, please," Victor whined, using that pathetic voice that always made the old coach cave. "I have to be there to pick up my Yuuri."

"Vitya, you know you can't miss another second of practice!" Yakov growled, and it was true that he had been exceedingly hard on Viktor this week. Fair enough, considering the idiot was planning a big comeback in addition to deciding to stay on as Yuuri's coach.

"He's going to get lost trying to find his way to the bus. He can't read a word of Russian!" Victor pouted. "Why can't you get him?" 

Yakov barked out a deeply bitter laugh. "Who would I leave in charge? You? The rink would be a smoldering ash pile by the time I returned. You are not the center of the universe, Victor. The entire rink can't shut down so you can go get your precious student, and we can't spare even one day of practice since you had the hare-brained idea of returning in two weeks."

"But Yakov - "

"Vitya," Yakov growled in all-too-familiar tone that indicated the conversation was over. "I've told you this almost every week for over a decade now, but you need to live with the consequences of your actions. You did not plan this out well at all. I'm sure Katsuki will be fine, but if he suffers for this at all, you have only yourself to blame."

Victor looked like he was about to cry or storm out, and Yuri knew this would only end with Victor defying Yakov and causing even more problems. Unless there was some kind of alternative - 

"I'll do it," said someone with his voice. From where he was standing. With his own mouth. Oh, fuck, it was him. Victor and Yakov gaped at him like he'd skated up to them stark naked, and it took him a moment to find his voice. "If-if it shuts you geezers up, I'll show him around. Yakov knows I'll make up the practice since I'm not a slacker asshole like some people."

There was a long silence, but then Yakov offered a grunt of assent and a slight head nod, which is about as appreciative as he can get. Victor, however, smiled so broadly that it threatened to engulf his entire face even as tears welled up in his eyes. He had Yuri by the wrist before the unfortunate boy could triple axel his fairy ass away. "Oh, Yurotchka! Thank you! Thank you so, so much!"

Yuri squirmed and flailed but couldn't escape. "Fuck off! Cut it out! I swear I'll change my mind if you don't let go!"

"No you won't!" Victor chirped, and he squeezed Yuri even tighter. "I'll give you my spare key in case you bring him back before I'm done okay?"

"Fine," Yuri growled, and he slumped into the hug, defeated.

"Thank you again, Yurio," Victor said, and his voice was shaking slightly, and Yuri wasn't sure if it was relief or sympathy. "I know this can't be easy for you, but...maybe it can help."

Yuri winced. As if he needed the reminder that Victor was also privy to his no-longer-secret feelings. "Just let me go already."

"Of course," Victor said, laughing quietly to himself. "Yurio, I think...Yuuri is very understanding, okay? I promise nothing you say or do will make him think less of you."

"Understanding is one thing," Yuri muttered. "Forgiving is another."

"He is that, too, yes," Victor said as he finally ended the hug. "But you've done nothing that needs forgiving, Yuri."

Yuri just grimaced at that and skated away. Maybe Yuuri didn't have to forgive him, but Yuri still felt he needed to be forgiven.

* * *

Sometimes Yuri wondered if he was some sort of subconscious masochist. That was the only reason he could think to explain why he was here at the stupid airport waiting for the stupid pig he'd stupidly fallen in love with instead of aggressively dancing his problems away in Lillia's studio after a night of fitful sleep (if you could call that sleep).

Okay, so, maybe masochism wasn't the only explanation. There was a non-zero chance that Otabek's nagging had finally worked and he had jumped on the first chance he got to patch things up and bury this problem once and for all. Not that he would ever, ever tell that to Otabek. Or anyone. Even himself.

Regardless, here he sat in a crowded airport terminal, watching a beautiful (if disheveled) Yuuri Katsuki heading his way with a broad smile and piles of luggage. He definitely hadn't cut his hair once this season, and it showed.

Fuck, it was cute.

"Yurio!" He shouted, and he broke into a quick trot. Yuri tilted his head in acknowledgment and crossed his arms over his chest to ward off any potential hugs. Though still smiling, up close Yuri could see the apprehension behind it. "Are you - "

"Let's go," Yuri interrupted, jerking his thumb at the trains nearby. Yuuri nodded, startled, and he mercifully seemed to get that Yuri wasn't ready to talk. That or it was just his natural awkwardness, amplified by the fact that he absolutely positively knew how Yuri felt about him now.

The quiet walk actually did him a lot of good. Spending time alone with Yuuri had always been good for him, and apparently the latest complications in their relationship. Yuri silently guided him through the airport and onto the train, where he sat right next to Yuuri, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him, close enough that if he leaned over his head would be resting on Yuuri's shoulder.

A very jet-lagged Yuuri seemed to figure that out first, though, as he slumped against a deeply, deeply distraught Yuri a few minutes later.

Well, he was distraught at first. But in the silence of the deserted train car, he allowed himself he opportunity to bury his face into Yuuri's dark hair and pretend, for a moment, that his affection was wanted. He lazily slipped a hand behind Yuuri's back, fighting to stay awake so they didn't miss their stop. 

It was less of a lie than a stolen kiss, to be sure. Yuuri wouldn't be comfortable enough to fall asleep on just anyone, certainly not someone he was upset with, so maybe Victor was right after all. For once, Yuri was determined not to overthink it: he had Yuuri Katsuki slumped over and sleeping on his slender shoulders, he was resting his head in Yuuri Katsuki's dark, soft hair, and he had an arm around Yuuri Katsuki's waist, just above his beautiful, seductive hips. 

Somewhere, in some other universe, there existed a Yuri Plisetsky who had been fortunate enough to be born a few years earlier, who had a real chance to be with Yuuri. He had no doubt that there would be a Yuuri in that universe too, and that Yuri would be in love with him, because he could not possibly conceive of any reality where that was not the case.

Yuuri started as they pulled into the stop nearest Victor's apartment, and Yuri was too drowsy to pull away before he got caught, and yet...

"Sorry," Yuuri muttered sheepishly as he sat up. He made no effort to move away. "I didn't sleep as much as I would have liked on the plane."

Oh, fuck you, just get angry already! "I get it. This is our stop, by the way." 

Yuuri nodded through a sleepy smile and allowed himself to be dragged through the streets towards Victor's apartment. "I guess I have to start learning Russian again."

"Again?" Yuri snorted. "You started learning it for Victor, didn't you?"

"...I mean, I needed foreign language credits and I needed liberal arts credits. Russian and Russian Lit fit those categories pretty nicely," Yuuri explained not at all convincingly. "Does it really matter why I came to those conclusions?"

"Disgusting," Yuri groaned, though it bore none of the malice it may have had normally. He was too torn between relief at having a normal conversation with Yuuri and sheer terror at the thought of laying these feelings out in front of him. 

"I kind of was," Yuuri confessed. "Phichit told me that whenever I was drunk I would launch into this ridiculous plan I had to marry him. Apparently, I thought it was a brilliant idea to dress up in a poodle costume and catch his attention from the front row, then give him a bouquet with a card that said 'free puppy cuddles' with my room number on them."

"The only thing more disgusting than that plan is the fact that it probably would have worked," Yuri sighed.

"I don't doubt he would have found it cute, but I don't think he would have taken me seriously," Yuuri said as they walked into the lobby. "Will Victor be home?"

Yuri summoned he elevator and shrugged. "Doubtful. Yakov is pissed about the whole coaching/skating thing, so he's been making Victor practice more than usual."

"I still can't believe that's what he thought I wanted when I sad I wasn't retiring," Yuuri muttered. "I just wanted to compete against him again, at my best this time."

"So you don't want him coaching you?" Yuri asked, veritably dragging Yuuri through the open elevator doors. 

"Of course I do," Yuuri said. "I just want him competing at his best, too. I would hate to beat him because of a fluke."

"I can't possibly imagine," said Yuri, who didn't have to imagine that situation because he'd just lived it. "The blowhard's apartment is the penthouse, because of course it is. It's really fucking boring."

"Boring?" Yuuri said, nonplussed. "I can't imagine Victor doing anything boring."

Yuri shrugged. "You didn't know him...before. Boring, sterile, and miserable was his aesthetic once he was off camera. Maybe he'll want to redecorate now, though."

The doors slid open. "Wow. I really hope you're right," Yuuri said, and his voice echoed through the cavernous empty space. "Where's Makkachin?"

"Victor drops the mutt off with a sitter when he's at practice. Something about poodles getting anxious when they're lonely or whatever."

For a fleeting moment Yuuri looked like he had been brutally and viscerally stabbed. He shook it off and slid into the couch, letting his luggage fall. "Thanks for helping out, Yurio," he said with a warm, tiny smile.

"Whatever," Yuri mumbled. "Look, I wanted to talk about something."

"Oh? Me too," Yuuri said, and his face began to slowly grow pink. "Um, go ahead though."

"Good," Yuri said, resigned. He sat on the couch next to Yuri, leaning into the opposite arm and staring into the wall past Yuuri's head. This conversation was something he'd been terrified of for a year now. The pressure had started building in his chest at the airport, but it was kept below breaking point by Yuuri's comforting proximity, but at last it was reaching a crescendo, one that felt like a primal scream starting in his gut and rising up to his throat, filling him with nervous energy and rage and terror until he finally, finally whispered "I like you."

"Huh?"

"I like you," Yuri growled. "Like, since last year. After I saw you skate, but especially after we danced at the banquet. I spent half the nights at your stupid inn lying awake fighting the temptation to go down the hall and crawl into your bed. Also, I may have actually slept in your bed a couple of times when you got up for an early run."

"Yes, I actually saw you there once, but I thought it was just because you were sleeping on a cot in a closet and wanted a real bed."

"I just wanted to pretend I was with you," Yuri muttered. "And sleeping on a pillow that smelled like you was the closest I could get. That was probably creepy."

Yuuri turned slightly pink at that. "I, uh....I'm not really one to judge."

"I also wanted to kiss you when I had you alone in the elevator in Moscow. And the next day when you got off the ice after your flawless short program. And the day after that when you looked so crushed after Victor left, and especially that night when I brought you piroshki and you smiled at me and..." Yuri couldn't talk anymore. This was not how he'd planned it at all. He wanted to be strong and confident and get his feelings out there and say it was over and he was moving on but this train wreck was the opposite of okay.

"I remember that," Yuuri said, and he laid a hand on Yuri's trembling shoulder. "I think that was the only time I've ever seen you smile."

"S-shut up, Piggy," Yuri managed to stammer. "I'm not done."

"Sorry."

"Watching that idiot Victor parade you around like some kind of trophy was miserable. I already knew nothing would ever happen between us but watching you sweep him off his feet and knowing how much you looked up to him really just confirmed it. Seeing you two together on Instagram and the news...and China...I hated it but maybe it helped me practice, now that I think of it? But even if it did, even I know it's not healthy to run on pure resentment."

"Yuri..."

"Then Victor told Yakov about his big comeback and I knew from the look in his eyes what that meant for you," Yuri continued, uninterested in the brief interruption. "I wasn't about to lose you. Even if we were never together. I needed you in my life and I needed to compete with you just as bad as you wanted Victor back on the ice. So I put everything I had into my free skate and I still just barely beat you. I still don't feel like I deserved it. One foot out of place and you would have the gold you deserved. If you hadn't tried that completely unnecessary quad flip in your short program, you would have creamed me. And it would have been what I deserved."

"Don't say that," Yuuri chided. "You were amazing. I can skate my best for the rest of my life and never pull off what you did for Agape."

"I still have no idea how I managed that," Yuri shrugged. "Anyway, I'll start growing again soon enough and everything will go right out the window so fuck it all anyway."

"That's temporary. Everyone has a hard time with that," Yuuri said with a reassuring squeeze from his hand, still resting on Yuuri's shoulder.

"It's still gonna suck."

"Very true."

"Anyway, at the banquet...I'm sorry. I was just trying to get this all out in the open and get it over with, but I kept stealing drinks and..."

"You don't have to apologize," Yuuri said with a quiet smile. "You know I definitely can't take offense to anyone's drunken actions."

"I do, though," Yuri said, and despite his stature he had never once felt so small. "Not just to you and to Victor but to myself. I stole my own first kiss. It should have been with someone who cared about me the same way I cared about them."

"I do care about you - "

"Stop," Yuri snapped, but he reined himself in quickly. "I know. I do. But you don't love me. You love Victor. It was in every step of your free program. Even if you didn't love him you wouldn't want me anyway."

Yuuri looked like he wanted to interject again, but he wisely did not.

"I'm too young or whatever or blah, blah, blah. I get it. I know this is impossible. I'm getting over it. I don't want anything to change between us, though," Yuri said, regaining his strength with every word. "I've tortured myself enough over this. I just wish I'd worked it out before the banquet."

"Am I allowed to talk yet?" Yuuri asked, sounding as though he, too, was on the verge of tears.

"Almost," Yuri replied. "I just...before we drop this subject forever, I...would you date me? I mean, if I were 4 years older and Victor died in a ditch somewhere before you got to meet him. If I'd met you like that, and I'd asked you out like an adult instead of screaming my feelings away, would you...?"

Yuuri sighed and cast his eyes across the room. "Is that a question you really want an answer to, Yuri?"

"I asked it, didn't I?" Yuri grumbled, already regretting it.

"Still...it seems like if I said yes you would hate knowing that something could have happened, and if I say no it would just double the hit of rejection," Yuuri explained calmly. "I just don't see any way this could end well for you."

Yuri sighed. "That's fair. You're right. I'm committed to moving on, and hypotheticals will only make it harder."

"You're being so mature about this," Yuuri said, smiling. "Maybe if Victor had been this mature after the banquet he wouldn't have spent four months miserably waiting for me to call him."

"Yet another thing I'm better at than Victor," Yuri crowed. He relaxed into Yuuri's reassuring grip at last. It did little to stoke the dimming embers of his feelings for Yuuri, but...well, Yuuri's presence was as comforting as ever. He was committed to moving on, of course, but that didn't mean he couldn't take comfort in a...friend. "What did you want to talk about, anyway?"

"Oh," Yuuri said, and his face flushed bright red. "Well. I. I was going to ask if you wanted to stay for dinner tonight."

Yuri laughed so hard he snorted. "Seriously? I spill my guts and you just wanted to make dinner?"

"Or order in," Yuuri muttered lamely.

"You're pathetic," Yuri said, but his tone was blatantly affectionate. "Fine. I'll eat dinner with you idiots. I'll even order it so you don't have to stumble through your piss-poor Russian."

"Thanks..."

"They can deliver it when Victor gets home," Yuri said as he pulled out his phone and opened the menu for his favorite delivery place. "I'll explain the menu. I already know what Victor likes. Meanwhile I can introduce you to the eighth wonder of the world: Russian daytime television." 

The way Yuuri smiling was so beautiful Yuri's heart couldn't help but swell one last time. If being friends with Yuuri was going to make him this happy, then it was worth every second of the pain he'd worked through to get there.

* * *

Much later Yuuri was awakened by several slobbery (yet gentle) kisses to the face from Makkachin. Victor stood behind the lovable furry beast, unclipping the leash and smiling warmly at the two Yuris sprawled out on the couch.

Yuuri had been sitting with his back against one arm of the couch, with Yuri leaning his elbow on the other. It was a small couch, so as Yuuri slid slowly down the arm in exhaustion, his feet eventually ended up in Yuri's lap. Despite his jet lag, Yuuri was determined to stay up and make fun of goofy Russian dramas with Yurio for as long as he could...but then Yurio fell asleep from what Yuuri could only assume was acute emotional exhaustion. When Yuuri prodded him with his ankle, the semi-conscious boy had slumped over into Yuuri's chest, where he still lay. Yuuri, at peace with their newly-stabilized relationship and entirely weak to cuddles, as Phichit and Victor had already discovered, passed out soon afterwards.

Victor was apparently just holding back a squeal of joy at the sight of Yuuri holding Yuri like a stuffed animal and snoozing on the couch, so Yuuri scrunched up his face and blew Victor a quiet raspberry. "How long have you been watching?"

"Not long!" Victor protested. "Like...ten minutes maybe. However long it took Makka to eat, I guess."

"You are hopeless," Yuuri sighed. He glanced down at a peacefully snoozing Yuri and tried to gently shake him awake to no avail, so he let his hand rest on the boy's shoulder. "No idea why he's suddenly so out of it. He was going to order food for us."

"I know the place he likes, I can do it," Victor said cheerfully. "So, I'm guessing you two finally talked?"

Yuuri nodded. "I feel terrible, Victor. I could have helped him months ago. He's just been suffering and lashing out the whole time."

"Teenagers," Victor said with a shrug. "You should ask Yakov about some of the things I put him through at that age."

"Victor, I know how difficult you are at this age. I don't even want to imagine how it was twelve years ago."

"You wound me!" Victor gasp, hand over his heart. "You are absolutely correct, of course, but I am wounded nonetheless!"

Yuuri rolled his eyes. "Anyway. I'm...proud of him. It took a while to get there, but when push came to shove he proved how mature he really was."

"He's a good kid under all that bluster," Victor said, running his hand through Yuri's soft hair. He grimaced in his sleep like he knew Victor was touching him. "Should we let him sleep?"

Yuri looked so peaceful. It seemed an appropriate reward for his courage to let him lie there a while. "Yeah. Go ahead and order dinner, and I can wake him up when it arrives."

Victor leaned over and pressed a kiss to Yuuri's forehead. "Of course, love. I'll take Makka out for a walk so he isn't disturbed."

Once the door shut behind Victor, Yuuri was alone with a quietly snoozing teenager and his thoughts. In truth, it wasn't so hard for Yuuri to imagine being six years younger and in love with Yuri - he was beautiful, talented, and kind beneath his punk persona. Victor probably wouldn't be interested in an 18 year old Yuuri, anyway, but they would still be close.

Maybe that's just how things were. In any universe, Plisetsky, Katsuki, and Nikiforov were meant to be together. The dynamics of the relationship could change, but inevitably, they would find each other. For Yuri's sake, and maybe a little bit for his own, Yuuri hoped that the two of them were happy together somewhere far away, in another life.

For now, though, he ran his fingers through the soft blonde hair and suppressed a laugh as Yuri made a quiet, sleepy noise of contentment. If this was yet another form of love, it was one that Yuuri would be happy to have in his life for many years to come.

**Author's Note:**

> So this was supposed to come out on Yuri's birthday OOPS 3 months late. I wanted to fix the second entry in the series though (give it a reread if you want, I added more to the ending) and this one took a lot of work because it had to be satisfying (to me at least). You can also consider this an apology for the AGONY of the other two stories.
> 
> (Title is from Sometimes, by Garbage because I apparently decided to carry that accidental theme through)


End file.
